William Kienzle - Marked for Murder - The Father Koesler Mysteries:

Kramer shook his head as if denying all this was happening.

“Open your jacket, Father Kramer,” Tully ordered.

Near petrified with nameless apprehension, Kramer fumbled with the single button that held the front of his jacket together. As he undid the button, the jacket fell open.

Tully smiled. “That’s one of the widest belts I’ve seen. That belt might just hang you . . . Father.”

“W . . . what . . .?”

“Officer Mangiapane is going to read you your rights. Listen to them carefully. Then we’re gonna take a very short ride down the block to Police Headquarters.”

There was the sound of footsteps running up the stairs.

For an instant, Tully wondered who it might be. Then he remembered: He had called for back-up from the other detectives on his squad who were on surveillance in other districts.

They certainly had taken their sweet time getting here. He could have been dead by now!

When he got a chance, he would read them the riot act. But for now, he felt too satisfied and fulfilled to stay angry at anybody.

20

Bob Pisor, weekend anchor man for Channel 4 News, opened the 11:00 P.M. report with an account of the arrest of the Cass Corridor Ripper, as he had been christened by the local news media.

“Police announced tonight,” Pisor said, “that there has been an arrest in the Cass Corridor Ripper case. For the past two weeks, fear has plagued the city’s ladies of the evening, as a killer who first murders, then mutilates his victims, has been on the loose.

“According to witnesses, who have provided the police with a sketch of the suspect, the man has been garbed as a clergyman. Until tonight, police had no other clues in this case. But in a surprising twist, an arrest was made late this afternoon. And, in the most astonishing development of all, the man alleged to be the murderer is, indeed, a clergyman.

“We’ll go live to Police Headquarters and Channel 4 reporter Gerald Harrington right after these messages.”

21

“Feel good, Zoo?”

Alice and Tully were seated on the living room couch before the glow of the well-used fireplace.

“You betcha.” Tully was not paying a great deal of attention to the TV news. For him it was a rerun. He had been there for the original drama.

Tully and Alice each held a mug filled with a mixture of hot tea and rum. It would be a pleasant nightcap. At the moment, since Alice had just put the concoction together, it was too hot to drink. They warmed their hands on the mugs.

“Were you surprised?” Alice asked.

“At what?”

“That he was a real priest.”

“Not much.” Tully thought about the question. He was answering the woman he loved, not the news media or the guys in the squad. No need to be a smartass. “Yeah ... I was.”

“So was I. I’ve never been able to figure out why the guy wore a clergyman’s outfit. At first, I figured he couldn’t possibly be for real . . . that he must have been wearing it as some kind of disguise.”

“It’s been a good question all through this business. That’s why I gave it little thought. I figured the same as you: It had to be somebody pretending to be a clergyman; I figured it must have been to gain the hooker’s immediate trust. The two who went with him to their death probably didn’t have the slightest doubt that they would be safe.”

“But what would they think about a priest being a John? I mean, that has to be different.”

“Listen, if hookers stay in the business long enough, they get to service just about every possible kind of guy. When they’re young and fresh with tight skin, they may be screwing the chairman of the board, the corporation president, the movers and shakers. As they get used up, they move down the ladder. Then it’s blue-collar, kids, old men. So if they hang in long enough, they’ll probably get everybody, including priests, ministers, and rabbis.

“But the worst thing that can happen to them is when they get a weirdo. And it can happen at any level. Guy says he wants a special trick. She puts her head down and he puts a knife at her neck. Or he sticks a gun in her ear. Maybe plays Russian roulette.”

“No!” Alice shuddered.

“And worse. It’s the most consistent risk the hooker has to face. And she does it practically every time she turns a trick. After a while, if they learn anything—and if they survive—they get to sense who’s safe and who isn’t.”

“But they could still get taken in by a guy who is actually dressed like a priest?”

“That’s what I figured. Those two gals had been around. They’d probably seen it all. But I’d be willing to bet they didn’t get many clergymen who went so far as to dress the part. If he figured he threw them off with the outfit, made them lower their guard, I guess he was right.”

“So you think it didn’t actually matter whether the guy was or wasn’t a real clergyman? Whatever he was, he was using the uniform to quiet their apprehensions and get them to go with him without a second thought.”

“I think so. So it didn’t matter. I got to admit, I never actually was sure it would be a real priest. But it doesn’t matter; priest or not, we got the guy.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure?”

“That this priest did it.”

“Huh?”

“That radio guy on WJR . . . he sort of left everything up in the air.”

“What? When was that?”

“The nine o’clock news, I think it was. He gave the impression that the priest had an alibi.”

“Not an alibi, but an explanation. Claims he was on a sick call or something. Person unknown calls, tells him somebody needs him. So he just ‘happens’ to arrive driving the car we’re looking for, wearing the clothing we’re expecting, going to the prime area we have under surveillance, looking just exactly the ways he’s supposed to look, carrying a king-sized knife, with the right size belt holding up his pants. It’s like the wolf telling Little Red Riding Hood it’s just a coincidence he’s waiting for her in grandmother’s bed. It won’t wash. It just won’t wash.”

Alice looked relieved. The soundness of Tully’s case had been troubling her ever since the earlier radio newscast. There was only one more doubt bothering her. “But isn’t your case—what do they call it—circumstantial?”

“We’ve been through that before, Al, in other cases. There ain’t a thing wrong with a case based on circumstantial evidence. Like the rope . . . remember?”

“Uh . . . oh, yes. Now I do.”

“Right. Each piece of circumstantial evidence is like a strand of rope. All by itself, each strand isn’t strong enough to support the case. But if you get enough of these strands braided, you got a damn strong rope. Strong enough to hang somebody. It’s not a platter case, but it is a damn strong case. We got him.”

“Then you’re done with it. It’s all wrapped up.” Alice knew well that if this case was, indeed, history as far as Tully was concerned, it meant only that he would be turning full attention to the next presented puzzle. But this case had been very special. She had never known Tully to be so absorbed in a murder case, even multiple murder. It had affected him deeply when he—as it turned out, mistakenly—assumed he was involved through the Bonner woman. But having become so intimately involved, there was no turning back from that early extraordinary commitment.

She was glad it was over.

Tully rose from the couch and began pacing before the fireplace.

“What is it, Zoo? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing, really. Only that it’s not completely finished. We’ve still got the show-up to go through. The case doesn’t rise or fall on my two hookers making the priest, but it will be a bit weaker if they don’t, and one hell of a lot stronger if they do.”